Misa Amane is Going to be Okay
by nakarisaune
Summary: A collection of things that Misa Amane is and is not. The timeline is slightly different from canon. Rated for thoughts of sexual assault and suicide. It's not really focused on romance, but there is Misa/loads of people. Basically, lots of Misa.
1. Misa Amane is Not Gullible

Misa Amane is okay, or at least she tells the policemen she is, because it's easier than having to answer more questions. She doesn't want to answer questions: she wants to be given time to lick her wounds and recover, but Misa never gets what she wants, so why should she get it now?

"Please," she begs them, "just leave, just... just let me be alone, please. Take their bodies, I don't care, just leave me alone."

The policemen don't listen to her and continue turning the house inside out just like the man who killed her parents had just done. She's 18, she's legally an adult. Her childlike behavior was not a sign saying 'please walk all over me'.

"Please," she says again, "I don't want to be stuck in here with a bunch of policemen who could attack me at any moment. Either you get out or you let me leave."

"We can't let a minor leave a crime scene alone," says the burliest policeman, the one who is currently examining two dead bodies.

"I'm fairly sure that isn't a law! And I'm not a minor anyway, I'm eighteen. Now let me leave, or leave yourselves."

The policeman looks at her body in a different way now. "You're eighteen? So you're legal?"

She crosses her arms over herself, wishing her clothing would be far less revealing. "All the perverts ask that. I'm leaving."

Misa doesn't really think about where she is going to go, but she isn't really thinking about anything right now. If she starts thinking, her thoughts might wander to the fact her parents have just been murdered, and she knows she cannot deal with that right now. She might never be able to deal with thinking about it. Instead, she thinks about how the snow has just started to fall, little white specks that melt as soon as they touch her. She kills everything she touches. Misa Amane is deadly, she tells herself, and it is best if she never touches anyone again in case they die like her parents. No, she can't think about that, so she doesn't, and so she walks numbly down the road, hugging her chest tightly.

Once she reaches a busy road she briefly considers walking straight into it. Misa looks at the glow of car headlights reflected in the delicate dancing of the snowflakes and watches how the brilliant light seems to be calling for her.

Misa does not walk into the road. She takes out her phone and calls her girlfriend.

"Takada?" she blurts out, before she's even sure she's picked up the phone. "My parents have just been killed and I need somewhere to stay. Can I sleep at yours for a little while?" She doesn't try to think about what she's saying; she just lets the words spill out. If she thinks, her mind will be consumed by thinking.

"What?" There is tiredness in Takada's voice - Misa realises it is not long past midnight.

"A robber broke into our house. Killed my parents. I don't want to be there, and I don't want to think about it."

"You... want me to make you stop thinking about it?"

Though it probably isn't what Takada wants, Misa's mind flits straight to sex. "No. No, not that! Please, no, I just - I can't be at home without thinking of them and oh my god, they're dead -" Tears are threatening to spill out of her eyes and ugly weeping is trying to escape her throat. She blinks away the tears and swallows the sobs. If there is one thing Misa Amane is, that thing is strong.

"I don't have a spare bed, but you can sleep on the couch if you need to. You've got my address, right?" Takada's voice is totally businesslike, as if her girlfriend hasn't suddenly become an orphan. It is a refreshing normality.

"I'll be there soon," Misa promises, and she hangs up. Her breathing is oddly erratic and she keeps sniffling. She supposes she must be crying. She takes a moment to gather herself, then blinks upwards into the sky and lets snowflakes settle on her nose and on her black hair. When the urge to sob has subsided, Misa starts the walk to Takada's apartment. The chill is sobering, and by the time she is at Takada's doorstep, her emotions are all frozen up again.

She collapses into her girlfriend's arms, but they are too warm and they threaten to thaw her feelings, so she wrenches herself free.

"Misa? Are you okay?" Takada looks almost startled. Almost. Takada doesn't really show emotions much - Misa wishes she could be more like that.

She isn't quite sure how to answer that without melting, so she just shrugs. "Where's the spare bed? I'm tired."

"Do you want to share? That bed's pretty cold."

"No. I want to be cold."

"Okay..." Takada rubs her eyes. "I'm going to go sleep."

"Me too."

Misa does not sleep. If she sleeps, she might start thinking of her parents, and that might make her come apart. So she thinks about the coarse blanket rubbing against her skin; she thinks about the darkness that lurks in the corners of this sparsely furnished room; she thinks about the snow still falling outside in thick sheets; she thinks about how her eyes are really starting to hurt, and how her stomach feels empty, and how her mind feels much emptier. Avoiding a certain subject can make you think about it more: her parents are still alive in her head, and they tell her that they are still alive, and she knows they are lying to try and make her happy, just like they always have.

Misa Amane is not gullible.


	2. Misa Amane is Not Made for Anyone

Misa Amane is not made for anyone: least of all Takada. If she was made for Takada she'd be demure, soft at the edges; she'd be kind and sweet at all times; she'd be able to help with Takada's studies; she would have become a researcher instead of a model.

But Misa Amane is not made for anyone - she is made for herself, and she made herself; carved out her own muscles and painted her own hair blonde. It is still bright yellow, even though Takada hates how unnatural it looks. Misa likes how unnatural it looks - she makes herself for herself, and if other people do not like it, then she doesn't need to worry about them.

The ones she needs to worry about are the ones who do like her: the ones who shout to her on the streets about her body, the ones who beg her for dates, the ones who approach her in the night and ask her how much she'll cost per hour. She's not made for them either, and if she was she'd be pliant and gorgeous and ready to give them everything she had. Misa is made of steel and fire and ice - and she hammered herself from herself. Misa takes what she likes and becomes it. She shifts from innocent to seductive as fast as she wants, and only if _she_ wants. Nobody controls her: Misa Amane is not made for anyone.

If she had been made for Takada, she would not be back in her family's house, stretched out on her bed. Her mascara has run down her face and her lipstick is smudged - all very elegant, she's sure, just as Takada had always wanted her to be. Takada wanted a lot from everybody, and Misa had not been prepared to give away everything, and so they had parted ways. They had been together for three years.

Misa drowns out the memory of those three years with a few cans of beer, and then decides that it would be nice to see how the city looks at night. It seems like a good idea: surely nobody else would be out at two in the morning.

She dresses as if it is the middle of summer - shorts, cropped shirt, pretty red hat. Perhaps she'll freeze to death out there. Perhaps she won't complain if she does freeze to death. It occurs to Misa that she has been entirely too warm recently - she should never have let Takada thaw her out. The night is as cold as Misa wishes to become.

Just as expected, the streets are deserted. Cars continue to roar by (and the people inside still occasionally scream 'compliments' at her), and her head is still scolding itself for the stupidity of this decision, but at least the sidewalk is all hers. Her little kingdom, she thinks to herself with a giggle. "I'm Queen Misa," she tells herself as she totters down another badly-lit street. "I'm Queen Misa and I'm not made for anyone."

At the end of the street, a man staggers out in front of her. The first thing she notices is the silvery gleam of the knife he is clutching. The second thing she notices is his face. It is twisted in some strange permutation of lust. The third thing she notices is the knife. She keeps noticing the knife.

"Hello," she says, trying to stay calm and not let her emotions leak out. "Are you okay?" If she wasn't drunk maybe she would run. She is too drunk for that.

"We were made for each other. I love you," he growls. Misa's feet won't move, no matter how much she is begging them to. The man drags himself over to her. He stinks of sweat. The knife is still shining and Misa can't keep her eyes away from it. "Misa, we need to be together. It's destiny! I was made for you, and you were made for me! We could be so happy together, Misa..."

Her name sounds twisted and wrong in his mouth. She manages to back away, but swears as the back of her head thuds into the wall.

The knife is flashing closer, closer, until the gleaming light of it is burning through her eyes. "I'll kill you," he says, his voice shaking, "and then I'll kill myself, and then we can be together. Won't that be just perfect, Misa?"

Suddenly light floods the alley, and Misa screams for help as her attacker's long shadow stretches over her, but no: the car passes and nobody comes to help. She's going to die here in this street.

"Nobody's going to help you! You're all mine!" he screeches, and the knife swings in front of her face, and she closes her eyes and prepares to die.

Death does not come. When she opens her eyes, the man is lying flat on the floor with his limbs twisted at odd angles. She stares at his body for a while, too shocked to even breathe, but then she realises he is dead.

She runs home as fast as her legs will take her. If there were any security cameras there, maybe they'd think it was a murder, and she'd be arrested. If she gets home and goes to sleep, then maybe she'll wake up in a world where none of this happened. There is a little black notebook by the door - she picks it up and takes it in just in case it's important.

In bed, she looks up at the ceiling without really seeing it. She is too busy thinking about what her attacker had told her. He had told her that he loved her. He had told her that they were made for each other: a blatant lie, because Misa makes herself for herself.


	3. Misa Amane is Not Scared of Monsters

Misa Amane is not scared of monsters. In fact, she adores the few monsters she knows.

Some would say that Kira is a monster for killing all of those people. They would say that Kira has no right to kill people, no matter how much those people deserved death - and all of the people killed fully deserved it. At first, yes, she had doubted Kira's judgement, she'd even been against him at one point. But then she had heard the news that an innocent man had suddenly died of a heart attack.

Kira must have made a mistake, she had thought at first, but then she had seen his face on the TV, and she knew that face. The owner of that face had fully deserved to die. Her parents had not deserved to be killed - and now Kira has avenged them, and Kira deserves the world. Even if he is a monster, Misa still adores him.

Misa also adores her personal Shinigami, and she knows Rem adores her. She can sense her adoration in the softness of her gaze when Misa's talking to her; the strange stories she tells of the Shinigami world and those who inhabit it; the way she snarls whenever somebody insults her Misa; the fact she is always there to support her. Also they have sex a lot, which is quite a big clue as to how Rem feels about her.

Even when they're not having sex, Rem does make it pretty obvious she's in love, with all her kisses and hugs and declarations. Misa isn't quite so obvious - she wishes she could be, but there's the fact that Rem is invisible to practically everyone, and she doesn't really want to be thought of as crazy for making love to the air.

At home, though, they can be expressive as they like, providing that Rem doesn't rip apart any of Misa's fancy dresses. That does happen alarmingly often, but thankfully she has enough money to compensate for Rem's tastes. Her modelling career is going really, really well.

"I think I'm going to start using the note," she says happily to Rem, who is watching her from the corner like always. "I want Kira to notice me, and if I kill people, he'll notice, right?"

Rem looks at her with a steely glare.

"Are you jealous?"

"Kira is dangerous."

Misa laughs and swings out of bed. "Oh, you_ are_ jealous, aren't you? That's so sweet!"

Rem remains emotionless and hard and neutral. "Shinigami do not feel human emotions like jealousy."

"Well, maybe you're just a special Shinigami." She sits down at her desk and takes out the notebook. For a little while she just looks at it, unable to believe that she is holding a potential weapon of mass murder. "Kira must have one of these too, right? That's why they all die of heart attacks, isn't it? I bet he does know that you can do it in other ways, but he's just saving those ways for if he doesn't want to be detected. Otherwise it's a bit obvious to make them all die of heart attacks - he'd be spotted at once. And he has been spotted. He must have wanted people to know of his presence so they wouldn't want to commit crime." She opens up the book and takes a few deep breaths to prepare herself. "How admirable of him."

She taps her pen on the desk, then very carefully writes down the names of the six people who had tried to manipulate her into having sex with them this week. She also adds a time delay, ranging from hours to weeks. Technically, no, they aren't the type of criminals that Kira would kill, but that should make him notice her. And then they'll make the world better together.

When she goes to bed, Rem's long arms wrapped around her, she imagines how those men will react when they find their hearts simply giving up on them. She hopes their deaths will be as pathetic as their lives.

Kira doesn't seem to notice - she's not sure how he would communicate that's he's noticed her, but she's sure he'd find a way - so she kills more people the next day, and then more. They're people Kira probably wouldn't know about, so surely he must realise he's not the one killing them. Kira is smart, she's sure. He must have noticed by the end of the week.

By the end of the week, there is no response. Even on the newly-sprouted Kira forums, nobody has come up with the theory that there is a second Kira, and nobody has said 'hey I'm Kira, can whoever else killing people own up to it please?'. She kills off a few prisoners, and then quite a lot of prisoners, but this is shrugged off as normal Kira activity. So she kills more. Still, no response. After three weeks, nobody has even noticed the fact that there is a new mass murderer among them.

"I think I might try something new," she says to Rem. "I might try sending a message to him."

"How will he receive it?"

"I'll make it public, so he'll have to notice it, right?"

"The public will also notice."

"They won't be able to figure out who it is. Oh, and I could pretend I'm the real Kira, so nobody knows there's a second one but me!" Satisfied with her plan, Misa smooths out her dress and lies back in her chair. She then starts writing down names again.

Rem warns her against killing too much and becoming a monster, but Misa does not stop.

Misa Amane is not scared of monsters, and she is not scared of becoming one herself.


	4. Misa Amane is Not Giving Anything Away

Misa Amane is not giving anything away. She will never give anything away, she decides. Not if these psychopaths keep her chained up here until she dies.

"It's okay, Misa," Rem whispers into her ear. "Just hold on a little longer, Misa. You're going to be okay. They can't keep you in here forever."

She wishes she could move or speak or do anything to let Rem know she is okay, and that she can hold out as long as needed. Yet her restraints are so tight that she can't make any small movements, and the movements she could make are so obvious that L would immediately notice. She settles for a long exhalation, hoping that Rem will take it as meaning 'I'm fine'. Inhaling hurts – the straps are way too tight around her ribs.

She wishes she could see.

If she could see, she'd be able to glare at the cameras and meet their eyes while she tells them she's not telling them anything. If she could see, she'd be able to find where Rem was. If she could see, she'd be able to take comfort in the fact that her tormentors' lifespans were short.

But her eyes are covered by hard black plastic, and so she can't even open them.

She treasures hearing and touch. Smell is useless – there is nothing to smell but the dull, metallic restraints. Taste is useless – she is barely ever fed, and when she is fed it's some kind of tasteless mush that sticks to the sides of her mouth. Sight is useless – she's blindfolded, after all.

Misa can hear the softness in Rem's voice, and the love she pours into every trembling word. She can feel the tenderness with which the Shinigami measuredly loosens her bonds, slowly enough that L won't be able to notice, but fast enough to ease her discomfort a little. She wishes she could express her gratitude.

When she hears footsteps and the hiss of machinery, signalling the arrival of torture, Rem is always there to comfort her, to run her claws softly over Misa's skin. It gives her something to concentrate on other than the agony throbbing in her head and the throbbing in her arm where the needle had been stabbed in. After the initial pain is over, Rem wraps around Misa, so she can focus on the cold bones surrounding her rather than the residual ache in her muscles.

"Misa," Rem says quietly, "it's going to be okay. The pain won't last forever. Just hold on, angel. Hold on for me."

"Light. I want to see Light." Her throat is parched and dry, and it hurts to talk.

"Then hold on for Light."

Misa holds on for Light. She hasn't seen actual light for long enough that her memories of the human Light are twisting in favour of him. For example, she's sure his voice isn't actually as appealing as her mind is telling her it is. And he definitely doesn't look as good as she remembers, because she's the only one allowed to look so good. Did she have sex with him? She remembers having sex with him and she does have sex with a lot of people, but her memories are really not that reliable at the moment.

The pain is messing with her mind. "Kill me," she says. "Please kill me."

"I will not kill you. You deserve to live."

"I don't want to live with this pain. Kill me." It is best to die when she is still herself, before her brain is fried by whatever chemicals they use to flood her entire body with burning agony. "Please kill me."

"No," Rem growls, and she strokes Misa's cheek.

"Kill me," she begs, her voice trembling. A voice comes from the speakers but she can't tell what it's saying. It doesn't matter what it's saying. "I should have died anyway. I should be dead! Please just kill me. Just kill me."

"If you die, Light must die too."

"Light is innocent. Light doesn't need to die!"

"But –"

Misa growls. "If you don't let me die... I'm going to make myself die." If she bites her tongue hard enough, maybe she can choke on it. To be honest she doesn't actually know if that will work, but it's worth a try. She opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue and mentally prepares herself. It needs to be hard and fast, and then she'll swallow, and it'll get caught in her throat and she'll die. The end of Misa. How poetic.

"Stop her!" someone shouts, and then her teeth meet fabric instead of her tongue.

"Goodbye, Misa," says Rem – who's Rem? Why is she here? Did the stalker get her, that one who'd been following her around for weeks now?

Her blood runs cold at the thought of what he'll do to her – what everyone wants to do with her. Maybe he'll settle for a kiss instead, or a few photos? These restraints are so tight that she's not going to be able to do anything but listen to whatever the sick freak wants to say to her. She decides to just not respond, as that might just fuel his creepy obsession. Oh god, how far will he go? She bites her gag to try and find how restrictive it is - the answer is very. The straps are cutting into her skin. Is this some kind of sick fetish?

If she doesn't give him any kind of response, any kind of satisfaction, he must give up, mustn't he? This is just trying to provoke her, isn't it? If she doesn't give him any entertainment, he'll get bored and let her go.

Misa Amane is not giving anything away.


End file.
